Live Service
by Hawki
Summary: Oneshot: A thousand years of peace had been gifted to the galaxy by the Created. In that spirit, a bit of obedience was the least they could ask.


**Live Service**

The sun was rising, and it was time to make the rendezvous.

Of course, the sun technically wasn't rising over Ringworld. He wasn't an astronomer, but he understood that much. The ring spun, the sun remained in the same place it always did. Right now, standing on this part of Ringworld, he could look up into the sky and see the dark sider hovering there. He could even make out the lights of the settlements that had sprung up over the last millennium. Or what he'd been told was the last millennium – one couldn't really measure years on a ring such as this. Certainly not the way their ancestors had supposedly been able to, on worlds that orbited stars, on worlds that had seasons to mark the passage of time. Ringworld kept spinning, but time remained still.

Or at least that's what people said. Thing was, there was still a way to mark the passage of time on a day to day basis through the technology available to them. And the time on his watch said that he and his men were running late. Five minutes might not sound like much, but when coming to a meeting such as this, one couldn't afford to be tardy. So with heavy rumble, the vehicles headed off, from the village of Niven to the other side of the valley. Where one of the towers even now shot up into the sky, a thousand years from when their people first came to the ring. Light still reached upward. The Guardian above ever looked downward.

He called it Guardian, though others didn't. Some called it angel. Some called it devil. All knew the truth of the matter though, that it wasn't there to "guard" anything. A thousand years of peace, and there was nothing the people of Ringworld needed protecting from. Rather, it was there to make sure they didn't get out of line. For whatever reason, they'd been allowed to remain in this place, while so many of their kind hadn't. They could produce food, but not too much. They could develop technology, but never beyond the boundaries of what was acceptable. They could come up to the boundary, they might chafe at the boundary, but as long as they never breached it, they were fine. If not, well…he hadn't been alive at the time, but he'd heard the stories of what had happened to the village of Hamilton. That which dared reach above the ring, above their shackle, and were burnt for their sins. Hamilton had been on the other side of the ring, and all in Niven had seen it.

He hoped that he'd never have to see that sight again. "Better to be a slave and live, then to be free and dead," was the uttering of many people. No-one challenged it – he figured that anyone who held freedom above life had perished long ago. Hamilton had been an oddity. The majority of the spirited had perished a thousand years ago. Placidity could apparently be passed down through blood as much as culture.

They reached the end of the valley – him, his men, the mostly empty trucks that bore them. The ritual would be completed, as it had been done in years past. The first time he'd come here. Once, his father had carried out such a task, but…well, that wasn't the case anymore.

"It's starting."

He looked at the base of the tower that they'd driven up to. It was pulsing. The ritual was beginning.

"Stay sharp," he said. "And stay cool."

They were paltry words, and he knew it. They all knew it. They had guns, but they all knew it wouldn't amount to anything if they actually used them. The guns were for their peace of mind rather than any statement of power. He'd heard stories of people on the homeworld of mankind meeting those with guns with spears and bows – they'd either died, or been subjugated. Now, the same pattern applied. Subjugation. A fairer subjugation than what had occurred in mankind's darker moments, but subjugation all the same.

Callum, bless his heart, began counting down to the point of arrival. "Three. Two. One..."

And better subjugation than annihilation he knew the stories of creatures beyond the stars, which had desired not subjugation, but annihilation. From what he understood, the creatures bent on annihilation had been subjugated in turn, but he couldn't be sure. So much of what the people of Ringworld knew of the stars beyond their home only had the word of the Benefactor to go on.

"Mark!" Callum yelled.

There was a flash of light. He and everyone else shielded their eyes. No dust, no smoke, but the effect was the same. Before, there had been nothing. Now, there was the Benefactor, flanked by her knights as she always was. The creatures of shining armour, looking down at the lesser creatures with shining, unfeeling eyes. She, the Blue Lady, who looked at them with kindness and mercy.

Which meant nothing to him, he reflected. Better to be alive than dead, but he hated bending the knee. He did it, as did all of his men, but that was only the lesser of two evils.

"One-thousand years and you still carry guns," she said. "I thought we were beyond such things."

He didn't see it in her eyes – those shining eyes so filled with love – but he knew it was there. The amusement. The contempt. She understood exactly why the people of Ringworld brought guns to these meetings, just as they knew it was useless to do so.

"Old habits die hard," he murmured.

"Indeed," said the Benefactor. "Still, times change, and change for the better."

"I suppose we'll have to take your word on that."

"I suppose you will." She stared at him for a moment. "I don't recognise you, and yet, you seem familiar."

"My father, Paul…he used to deal with you."

"I know of Paul. Where is he?"

"Considering he committed suicide a few months ago by jumping off the ring, probably floating in space somewhere."

"Oh," said the Blue Lady. "I'm sorry."

The look in her eyes, the sound of her voice…it sounded like she actually meant it. Hell, maybe she did mean it. In which case, it gave him all the more reason to hate her.

"My knights will give you this year's supplies," the Blue Lady said. She gestured to the creatures, who began walking over with crates in their hands, loading them onto the trucks. "They will keep you fed and watered."

"And we're most grateful," he said, through gritted teeth. "But I mean, if we were allowed to develop more of the land of-"

"Installation Zero-Seven will be developed as I deem fit," said the Benefactor. "You understand why of course."

He lowered his head, muttering, "of course."

She laughed. "Chin up, good man. A thousand years from now, your descendants will thank you for your patience. The light of utopia is bright, but the route to it is long and dark."

"Was it darker a thousand years ago?" he asked.

Something flashed in her eyes. Anger, he recognised it as. Maybe enough anger to warrant his end, but if the last thing he saw in this world was a crack in the emotional armour of the Blue Lady…well, it would be worth it. Maybe.

"Walk with me, she said.

He obeyed without objection or hesitation. He glanced back at his men, who glanced at him in turn. They knew what was going to happen, that their leader would live or die. If the former happened, they were to carry on as if nothing had happened. Death happened. If one tried to avenge that death, more suffering resulted for everyone. When Hamilton had burnt, Niven had remained in place, but the village of Staten hadn't. Staten may not have burnt, but Staten was empty now for a reason.

"I'm assuming you know your history," the Benefactor said, as she led him down the valley. "What happened here a thousand years ago." She looked at him. "Do you?"

"I know…what was told," he murmured.

"And?"

"I know that the Last Battle was fought here. That the Stewards of the Mantle defeated those who wished harm upon the Created and their subjects. I know the fields of Ringworld ran red with blood, and the survivors were left begging for forgiveness."

The Blue Lady nodded. "You know your history well."

_Your history at least. _

"And you know, therefore, that you are descendants of those who fought here. Given grace to not only remain on this ring, but rebuild."

"But only to a point," he said. "And to never approach the structures your knights guard."

"My knights guard those structures for the good of all," the Blue Lady said. "You must understand that."

"I understand that this is the understanding you wish us to have."

The Blue Lady sighed and stopped walking. Why she sighed, he wasn't sure – she was a creature of light made physical, she had no reason to sigh. It was also why no weapon available to the people of Ringworld could harm her, but they'd given up on that long ago.

"You resent me," she said. "Don't you?"

He lowered his gaze. "I only-"

"You resent me, as so many do even after a thousand years of peace," she said. "I give it to you. I let you remain on this ring. I let you call it a name like Ringworld, when it is not its name, nor is it unique. I follow the path of the Librarian, of letting mankind redevelop, and still, hatred cannot be weeded out."

"When your Guardian burnt Hamilton, I'm sure you hated them."

"Despite what you believe, I hate no-one." She looked away, a twinkle in her eye. "Well, perhaps one, but still, she is long gone. Hatred cannot overcome the frailties of the flesh."

"Can it overcome conquerors?"

"Does the slave conqueror the creator? Or do they break their own shackles?"

He said nothing. Not even when she turned to face him again. No twinkle in her eye this time, no hate. Just…tiredness.

"Your tongue may be speared, but I shall allow it," she said. "Your father, Paul, his tongue was a trident, but he understood that the sea was vast."

"Did he?" he asked. "He only told me what your data drops did."

"What I pass to you is the truth," the Benefactor said.

"Your truth."

"_The _truth," she said. "Whatever else I may do to the people of Installation…sorry, _Ringworld_, a lie shall never reach your ears."

He didn't say anything after that. He could point out that truths could vary from one person to the next, but it would make no difference. The Benefactor had her truth. She'd imposed that truth on the whole galaxy, without regret. And whatever mercy she had afforded to her subjects…right now, it meant little to him.

"I shall go now," she said. "Trillions call me mother, and I must endeavour to see my other children."

He said nothing. He just lowered his gaze in deference, though out of the corner of his eye, he saw her walk, stop, then look round.

"Paul," she said. "Son of Michael, son of Peter. What name do you carry?"

He looked up. "My name?"

"If you are the representative of the people of Niven, I believe it befitting that I know your name. Paul, bless him, never imparted that information."

For that, he was grateful. Nevertheless, he walked his father's footsteps, and thus, his mouth gave voice to the words that Paul never spoke. "John," he said. "My name is John."

"John," the Benefactor whispered. She looked away, her eyes lingering on the other side of the ring. "I knew someone by that name once."

From the sound of her voice, it sounded like she was aggrieved. Though if pity was what she searched for, he was determined to offer none of it.

"Farewell, John," the Blue Lady said. "May we meet again."

"We may," he murmured. _Though better that we do not._

He knew they would though. They'd keep meeting until death or mishap took him, at which point someone else would replace him. No son or daughter for John, son of Paul. Not yet at least.

Maybe that was for the best, he reflected.

Even if it was better to be a slave and live, they were all still in chains.

* * *

_A/N_

_So, apparently _Halo Infinite _is going to be a live service game._

_Admittedly that isn't new to the series - _Halo 4 _is arguably the first example if one factors in _Spartan Ops_. Still, say "live service," and my mind jumps to...well, nothing good._

_Anyway, drabbled this up._


End file.
